Moon-Man Chronicles 3: High Tide
by M-manNeverChoosesToLose
Summary: In the prison city of Inkopolis, a familiar, not so forgotten character reappears. After suffering severe damage at the hands of a mutant, Moon-Man makes her way back to the home she once knew, haunted by the memories of the past and the rains that threaten their entire way of life. This is a non-standalone title featuring the original storyline from Moon-Man Chronicles 1 and 2.
1. Part 1

One-Phantom Limb

The seasons were changing, and it could be felt from the atmosphere from every part of the cage that surrounded her. From the thick concrete, to the denizen of this city, she could feel disdain for the future emanate towards her. She could feel the unease of those who shared her cage and could see it through their violent actions as they used their growing anxiety to fuel their mock battles. She could see it through monitors, where any could spectate fights that were the sole televised entertainment within their cage. Even the Sisters, who lorded above them through cameras and screens, protected by the translucent barriers that segregated them from their loyal fans, constantly repeated information about how dangerous the next few weeks would be. How they should always have their minds dedicated towards shelter, and have their hearing dedicated to the warning klaxons that signaled their first enemy's attack… for the monsoons were coming, and, as the old homage went, with water, came death.

When she had been young, she had been told bluntly by her father that the heavens hated her. She had thought the words he had said then had been punishment for a wrong she had done, but when she tried to correct it through acting like a docile child and doing chores without being asked, her father had sat her down and explained what he had meant. He had told her then, he had not meant her specifically, but her entire race.

And it was not just the heavens, but the very world that surrounded them. Though they lived in peace in her mountain home, they were currently at war… but not with those who shared their island, nor the ones who lived a small ocean away. They weren't even at war with the economic democracy to the far south, who lived in their massive archipelago which had historically attacked their nation's fleets for the sake of having a bit of fun. No, it was none of these living factions they warred against, far from island home. Instead, they fought the very world itself, which, were it to have any intelligence, would send rain after rain, until it washed their entire, unrelenting race into the sea.

Perhaps it was this rage the denizens of the city were feeling. Untampered by adults, and unexplained by a rational mind, her fellow children were feeling for the first time the aggression the very world brought down upon them every year. Now, instead being calmed, they could only look at the world and feel aggrieved from the entire life they had unwittingly been brought into. Not only were they abandoned by their parents in this experiment of a city, they were now at risk of death because the most common substance within the world was lethal… and coming in the form of a raging typhoon.

Why the architects of this city, the same ones whose offspring would be conscripted and imprisoned, chose to build this cage next to the ocean was beyond her. Surely, there were better places to have put this city. Places with less natural dangers presented to the children playing soldier. Places where they could be imprisoned and sent to battle those who they would befriend under normal circumstances… a place not so exposed to the waves of the sea that massive walls and fortifications would have to be built to keep them at bay.

She hated this city. She hated this cage. She hated this world with every fiber of her being. She hated feeling trapped, as she did now as she stared at the uncaring sea, and the graying sky. She hated the invisible hands that had brought her, and everyone she knew here. She hated the ones inside this city, and their undisciplined shows of emotion that infuriated her to no ends. She hated repressing her own anger down, knowing if it got the best of her for but a moment, she would become the ones who had caused her such pain… which was what she hated the most.

Her pain. The pocked marks where the hated water had touched her bare skin. The thin and thick trails that had slowly moved down the back of neck, scarring the flesh underneath the filmy substance that could be weaponized, to an extent. She hated the memories of her flesh being torn atomically, the polarity of the substance dissolving bits and pieces of her until it had grown full. All along her back and arms there were trails where her coat had not protected her from that idiot of a child, who could not keep his own anger in check. Along her jaw, there were scars that would remind her for the rest of her life the humiliation she had faced at the defeat of someone inferior to her… forcing her to remember the excruciating moments where her mortality had been faced.

If only these scars were the only ones. If only her wounds were inflicted by water, and not by the ones who had sent the now missing boy towards her. If only she had not been wrapped up in the schemes of some mutant thing, that looked like her, yet was so… different. Terribly different. If only she had not been caught by those two agents from a defeated enemy… whose flesh still lingered in her teeth. If only she did not have the marked hole in her stomach, where she had been pierced and bled, leaving her in a perpetual state of coldness that still lingered at her mind.

Even now, she was shaking from the slightest, warmest wind that heralded the coming storms. Even though it had been weeks since she was declared recovered. Even though it had been weeks since her enemy's death. Even though she was considered a hero, to those who knew of her actions. Laying in her dark, empty room, which had been stripped clean by unknown hands when she had been hospitalized. She sat, facing the cleared wall that had once held all written and photographed evidence she had been able to collect about her first attacker… trying to remember if any of the crazed, paranoid ideas that had wrapped around her brain had any attachments to the unknown threat she had now overcome.

She sat, in her smooth leather coat, sheet covering her lap as she wasted away on the hard floor of her room, staring blankly at the empty wall as the sun shone through opened curtains, and the stinging sea breeze flowed through her opened window. Remembering the weeks of solitude of thinking through the wall of information, she stared, and stared… and stared… unable to do anything than feel pain and anger as she did this fruitless action. All she could feel was-

* * *

"Moon-Man!" An agonizingly warm voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts from the kitchen. As the named Inkling was shouted at, she gripped the temples of her head, unable to understand how this self-proclaimed friend of hers had managed to enter her apartment. As she stared at the unwanted intruder, wondering how the girl had somehow divined when the owner of the room would return, or if she had just broken in and never left. "You can't just be sitting around all day."

"Why?" She asked back, shifting away from the source of noise within her normally silent room and falling to her side.

"Because, you need to walk around! You've been lying in a bed for who knows how long, and you've done nothing but stare at the wall all morning! The least you can do is come over here and help me cook." The yipping girl whined, perhaps purposefully mimicking the noises of an annoying mother solely to get the one on the floor to do something.

Stubbornly, and ignoring the genuine feelings of care from the one looking at her from the small kitchen where her refrigerator stocked full of cheap ration boxes had been raided, Moon-Man spoke… unable to help but feel a shred of joy as she gave her mumbled answer. "I refuse."

"What did you just say?" The now angered girl asked, wearing a false smile that showed nothing but threatening fury. Bunkering down with the sheet, Moon-Man protected herself from the girl's glimpsed gaze, groaning as she heard the girl's footsteps approach her hidden host. Apparently annoyed with the one on the floor, the invader talked down to the owner of the room like a mother to a child. "What do you think you're doing? Do you think that a blanket is going to protect you from me?"

"It might." Moon-Man groaned, now having to wrap the blanket's edges around her wrist to keep covered. Feeling the weak tug from the girl as her defenses were tested, Moon-Man continued to retaliate with her words, unsure if the girl above her thought her questions were meant to be playful. "Why are you even here? How did you know I was coming back today?"

"Oh, you didn't notice? I moved in downstairs!" The girl's piercing voice explained, far too happily. "Your building's renovations were fully completed weeks ago, so I thought, 'hey, why waste time setting up cameras, when I could just -be- the camera?'"

"Please tell me you're kidding." Moon-Man whispered, the very idea enraging her for no real reason.

"To which part? The cameras, or the-"

"Both, you psycho!" Moon-Man shouted, throwing the sheet off herself and slowly rising to her feet. Angered at how long it was taking her just to stand… and feeling the look of pity flash across from the controlled facial features of the girl behind her, Moon-Man couldn't keep her anger in check, and lashed back at one of the few people she had to rely on within this terrible world. Threating her friend with a glare, Moon-Man felt her tone harden as she looked at the now shrinking girl… the small half-step being taken backwards hurting Moon-Man more than the small amount of physical therapy she had to endure before being sent back to her small sanctuary. "Catherine, you better not have moved here."

"I… but… I mean, we-"

"We?!" Moon-Man roared in disbelief, now knowing more of her friends had betrayed her expectations. "Who else is in on this?! Bojable? Tome?"

"Well, yeah! It didn't make sense to keep us all split up if we're going to be separated by the storm! Besides, now that the stakes of the tournament have been raised, we really need to get our heads together and try to win or-"

"What do you mean, the stakes have been raised?" Moon-Man asked, instantly realizing she had been distracted purposefully, and moving her questioning back to the topic that mattered. "And why did you decide this building?! I'm not on your team, and I'm never going to be!"

"We know!" Catherine cried out in anger, a look of betrayal stabbing her host deeply… and silencing the room with her following pause. Only after a hesitant moment did Catherine explain herself, no longer threated by her oldest friend's threatening gaze of refusal, speaking painfully from the heart with honest words. "I… know. I know you're not going to do any more turf-wars or mock battles or… anything. That… that doesn't mean we're just going to leave you behind… or ignore you. You're still our friend! Just because you've quit doesn't mean we're going to abandon you! I'm… I'm not going to leave you alone!"

Unable to say anything to the girl, Moon-Man listened to the one speaking as though it was an afterthought. As Catherine continued, looking towards the blanket on the floor, Moon-Man slowly moved her hand to her stomach… feeling the mixture of emotions begin to make her sick. "Don't worry about us, or what we're doing. We've already found our fourth, and… we're going to try to win. If… if you really don't want me to come back… I'll just… hole up in my-"

Moon-Man couldn't listen to the final words of the girl's sentence, in fear for what would happen. Moving past her friend towards the door that led to the hallway, Moon-Man clutched her stomach, rubbing the pain in her forehead away as she flung her door open… and though she could have easily been caught up with, the girl behind her made no attempt to follow. No calls of her name chased her, nor was there a begging for her to return… and though it ached to walk at the speed she was going, she was happy to flee her own home.

Which, as she descended the stairs and moved towards the outside, made Moon-Man wonder if Catherine's words had all been for the sake of her original goal to get her host up and moving.

Walking through the streets without any real purpose, Moon-Man began taking stock of how much the city had changed in her absence. Every glass storefront had posters advertising the incoming tournament, telling every child within the city that their battles would be televised for the whole of the nation to watch… telling children that through their violent actions, they would receive glory beyond their wildest dreams. That if they performed well, they would be looked as though they were heroes, like the days of long past…

And now, judging by the words from she had fled from, there was another reward for those who would win the largest team battle bracket ever to be televised. Though she didn't know what the reward might be, Moon-Man knew it had to be big if Catherine was taking it seriously. Before she had been hospitalized, Moon-Man knew the girl to be disinterested in all things vapid… choosing deeper, more abstract rewards over any number of shiny objects.

Rubbing the sunlight from her unprotected eyes, Moon-Man regretted leaving her room so abruptly. Keeping a hand to her forehead, and walking where shadows were predominant, she made her way towards the transit system of her cage of a city, knowing she was going to need to buy several items with the make-believe currency of their town… as most of her stuff had been confiscated by the unseen authority of their city, namely all her weapons that had their safety systems broken.

Why these invisible forces had done such a thing was still beyond Moon-Man's mortal knowledge, as clearly, they must have thought themselves gods to believe that no one else knew how to override the small little locking mechanism that restricted their weapons from being used out of the battle arenas. Even within the tram, she could see children in gangs of four holding their barely concealed weapons… each of their thumbs hovering over the safety switches that could be forced downwards… their eyes scanning for the potential enemies of those who would harm them before the tournament started, to knock their competition out before the battles had even begun.

Wondering if there was merit to their defensive actions, or if they were just acting paranoid now that their spring-time tournament was finally here, Moon-Man looked away from those armed and switched her gaze to those who already knew they had no chance of winning. With such a contrast before her, the first-years who had just entered this cage still blinded by the sights and sounds of such an urbanized area, Moon-Man couldn't help but feel the hints of a smirk filled with pity come to her lips. How these groups of individuals could be so oblivious to what was going on around them, able to smile happily and make jokes to their friends despite the threat of rain and the ignobility of obscurity from their lack of participation in their nation's newest pastime of children playing soldiers… was just… annoying, to watch. All Moon-Man wanted to do was berate the younger boys and girls… jealous of their care-free actions and happy dispositions.

As the moving letters above the doors changed, telling those in the cabin that they had reached the plaza and were coming to a halt, Moon-Man couldn't help but remain seated. A part of her knew she wasn't ready to follow either group out, or step in front of them as though she didn't even register their existence for the sake of buying a new weapon. Just the idea of following these kids into the small, packed, plaza made Moon-Man feel disgusted with herself, and all of those around her. Unable to stand those who took their tournament seriously, and unable to tolerate those who could find enjoyment in this wretched life, Moon-Man sat motionlessly, staring at the closing doors as the automated train began to propel her towards the residential areas of the city.

She had gotten off a few stops after the plaza, taking the first opportunity to leave unwatched by others within the train. Dodging the main streets, Moon-Man found herself stalking the shadows of the city, aimlessly wandering beside the concrete walls that surrounded her. Having to stop every few dozen paces to catch her breath, Moon-Man began to truly regret several actions over the course of her life… and as she passed piles of garbage others were employed to properly discard, Moon-Man wondered if she should just sit down beside the kin that was the trash bags and share their eventual destruction.

Instead though, she continued her pained journey, finding it hard to believe that she was exhausted after only half an hour of physical activity. She had always known her battles would take a toll on her growing body, but… to feel so weak was something new to her. She felt… vulnerable, despite having her accomplishments constantly remind her how strong she could be. The marks in her skin showed the ability she had to survive, and though her pale skin was even paler now, making her appearance close to that of a corpse… Moon-Man could always be reminded of-

"What the frick-frack-patty-wack is that?!" Moon-Man heard from in front of her, and as she blinked, she realized she had dumbly wandered into an open street. Staring at the young face who had said something stupid out of genuine confusion as to the coated Moon-Man's physical appearance, she was blinded, coming out of the shadows without trying to protect her sensitive eyes from the sun. Blinking, Moon-Man could see the four faces look to her, acting as though she had jumped out at them with intent to ambush their formation. Checking to see if there were any other witnesses to her viewing, ignoring the few crustaceans and jellyfish that had been permitted to work within this prison city spectating their strange interaction, Moon-Man found herself lacking witnesses. Raising her hand to the leather collar at her neck, pushing it upwards to cover the lower half of her water-scarred face, Moon-Man moved around the smallest of the team members, as if she had been intending to go the direction she mistakenly went. As she took advantage of the stunned looks of the blocking children, easily passing the group without incident… she heard a voice come from the group that was filled with angered appreciation.

"Oh hey, I know you! You're Moon-Man." The nearly mocking words pointed out to his group of friends, eliciting responses of further confusion. Turning her head ever so slightly, Moon-Man appraised the boy that was seemingly unarmed, noticing just how much of his gear was designed for increasing movement. Seeing the smile more as a snarl, Moon-Man reached to her hip out of instinct… but regrettably, could not find the handle of her weapon. Though she was unarmed, she wasn't particularly worried if this suddenly turned into a brawl, as she had much more experience in physical combat than these-

"The mutant murderer?" The boy who had first spoken asked in awe, turning to face her with a glint of curiosity. Ignoring the one who had identified her, Moon-Man turned to the one who had uttered the new nick-name. Looking to the one who clutched his head in excitement, as if she was some idol like one of the Sisters, Moon-Man whispered her question that had been intended to threaten the smaller male.

"What did you call me?"

"Holy crap guys! Did you hear that?! Look how cool he is!" The excited youth asked his three friends, turning his back on the coated Inkling. Whether it was because he felt protected, was over excited, or just didn't notice that she was threatening him, the boy turned on his heel and began to bombard her with questions. "Did you really skin a shark for this coat? Did you really win a one-v-four eight times in a row? Weren't you the runner up of the Annual like, last year?"

Angered, and empowered by her rage, Moon-Man felt her entire face turn from the mask of calm and disinterest to that of pure rage. Noticing her facial expressions for the first time, perhaps, the boy looked at her not in awe, but in horror as she grabbed his collar and brought him towards her. With a single shake to move him towards her face and halt him in place, Moon-Man repressed the urge to bite and punch and attack this idiotic child, having to tightly grip the boy's thin coat to keep her hands from his neck. Repeating her question slowly so the boy could understand her clearly, Moon-Man whispered once again, this time conveying just how little in the mood she was to be called any truthful title.

"What… did you… call me?"

"The… the mutant murderer?" The boy near whimpered, perhaps never feeling blood lust directed towards him before in such proximity. Feeling as though he should dig his grave further, the boy began saying other titles as well, the creativity of the names progressively getting worse the longer he went. "The coated killer? The ghost of the turf? The returning revenant? The vengeful ghost of the first war? The-"

"Who told you these names?" Moon-Man whispered, turning her attention to the movement of their team's leader, who was now moving to a position that would give him clear line of fire. "I don't remember having titles given to me."

"Buddy…" The team leader began to warn his captured squaddie.

"I don't know! I've just heard stories about you, so I-"

"From who?" Moon-Man asked the now panicking child, taking a hand off the boy's collar and allowing him control of his own posture to a limited degree… glad the boy was still entranced by her wounded face as she searched his coat for any hidden weapon she could procure. Sighing from her unsuccessful pat-down, Moon-Man released the boy in his entirety, who quickly stepped back as he answered… the child falling to the ground as his captor refused to support his weight any further.

"The… The End! Or whatever she's calling herself! She… she's been telling stories about you…" The fallen boy explained, the other three quickly taking defensive positions to support the child… at least showing there was unison between them that did not need to be vocally commanded. Looking at their purple heads, Moon-Man wondered if these kids were on their way to the tower to catch a ride to the morning's arenas or were on their way to some food joint.

"The End, huh?" Moon-Man asked, never having heard a kid under that title before. Wondering who it could be that felt confident that they could slander her with these inflammatory nicknames, Moon-Man looked to the one who had jockeyed for a clear shot, ignoring the other two who had no hopes of getting their rollers off their backs before she could attack. "And what has this girl been saying about me?"

"She mentions you as… I don't know… a wrong doer, or whatever." The savvier boy explained, his hand not leaving the interior of his jacket as he looked to the 'mutant murderer'… unsure if the title was meant to describe her own looks, or her past actions. "Like you're some nemesis she's going to defeat."

"Just… drunkenly in passing, or…? What? When does this girl talk about me? When did you hear about me?" Moon-Man inquired, her enraged tone helping her quest for information.

"After we got stomped by her team, dude. She and her goon-squad got matched in our bracket, then went insane! They didn't even play for territory, they just… rushed us and kept us locked down to our gate for every match." The boy stated, giving Moon-Man an idea of where this squad landed in the city's ladder.

"When?"

"I don't know! A week or two ago, you psychopath! Just… leave us alone." The team-leader demanded. After a look that signaled there would be a fight if she were to stay, Moon-Man turned on her heel and took a step away from the squad, trying to process the information she received from the younger children behind her. Dwelling on the idea that there was someone unknown out to get her, Moon-Man strode into the sunlight of the street, temporarily blinded as she lifted a hand to her face.

At least she still held her mannish disguise, Moon-Man thought moments before getting kicked in the back. Having hoped the younger boys wouldn't try to avenge their pride in the one-sided exchange they had just had, or because they had seen through her bluff of toughness Moon-Man had temporarily summoned, the nameless team-leader knocked her over with his ambush… which, for whatever reason in Moon-Man's twisted brain, wasn't a reason to get mad over. Trying to roll with the kick and failing, Moon-Man felt the asphalt on her face as she landed hard and quick… perhaps surprising the boy with her sudden show of frailty, especially after the dominating act she had just showed them.

"What the filthy fraud?" The team-leader asked, reminding Moon-Man through his words that she had very little information on him if she ever wanted to retaliate against him later. Clutching the side of her head that had briefly met ground, Moon-Man let out a muted groan of pain… and feeling the hat that she had bundled her designating tentacles within had either been torn from her head or had fallen off with her tumble downwards. "You're a girl?"

"Moon-Man's a girl?" A sarcastic voice asked loudly, in the direction which she had chosen to head towards before being kicked in the back. Sticking to his sarcasm, the familiar voice loudly spoke out at her attacker… who she sensed was backing off now that there was a witness to potentially record the attack. "Whoa, dude! Are you saying that all our made-up names are stupid, and don't really describe who we are as people?! Do you feel tricked that our home-made titles might not be as well thought out as you'd like?"

"Who the hell are-"

"Dad?" Moon-Man whispered, the familiar face briefly looking down at her and snorting at the joke that was his name. "Why are you here?"

"Wait… Dad? You're one of the Dads who-"

"No, I'm not on Team Father, and get lost kid." The Inkling ordered, stopping in front of Moon-Man and offering a hand to the fallen girl. Mumbling to himself before speaking to the hesitating attacker, the purple headed Inkling Moon-Man had met at a vending machine showed how much he had changed through his air of authority. "I really need to pay for a name-change, don't I? Anyhow! Did you not here me, scrub? If you're not gone in like, three seconds, I'm going to turn you into a squid and kick you around like a ball."

"What-"

"ONE." Dad shouted, his anger silencing the younger Inkling who had carelessly attacked one of his associates. Standing in shock, it would not be until the poorly named fighter pulled out his own weapon and slammed the safety off before the younger turf-warriors began to flee. Not even needing to count to two, the strange boy above her looked down to the fallen Moon-Man and let out a scoff that turned into a laugh at the pathetic nature of those who had fled. "So, are you just going to sit in the middle of the street all day?"

Sighing to herself, Moon-Man gripped the boy's palm, and felt him raise her up far too easily than what she would have liked. Now on her feet, Moon-Man stared at the one who had seemingly grown in the few weeks she had been absent from the city… and couldn't help but feel the moment grow more and more awkward as the boy stared at her scarred face. Averting her gaze from the one studying her healed wounds, Moon-Man looked to her hand, and noticed the boy was still gripping her own.

"You can let go, now." Moon-Man informed the boy, who blinked at her words before realizing what he was doing. Immediately doing as he was told, Dad looked towards the way the others had fled from… and spoke with a sense of joy and anger.

"They stole your hat."

"I… don't care." Moon-Man informed the one who had noted the theft, who seemed disappointed by her lack of reaction. Instead choosing to focus on the appearance of someone she barely knew as opposed to the robbery, Moon-Man inquired as to the boy's sudden entry onto the near empty street… feeling surprised with the answer she received. "What are you doing here?"

"Did Catherine not tell you?" Dad returned, a twinge of surprise being revealed in his facial features. "I'm your replacement."


	2. Part 2

Two-Numbers

The stink of the wharf district was pungent, filled with the fetid stench of the murder of the unintelligent fish that sustained the lower-class society of their cage. Shrimpers and crustaceans predominantly lived and worked in this part of the city, out of choice or because of the true owners of the city had forced them there. She was still unsure how these small groups of species, or at least, the shrimp, crab, and jellyfish who were allowed into the guarded perimeter were allowed sanctuary in this hellhole. She wondered, if she were a prisoner in this city, were these law-abiding, neutral parties the same?

It was impossible to tell. None would speak of it when questioned, feigning ignorance to the few Inklings who cared to ask how these peoples were brought into their cage. Through her own investigation, she had discovered that the other species were just seeking economic opportunity… but something felt wrong about the idea of bringing families of other species inside the prison they kept the next generation of soldiers to train within. How these immigrants were brought into, or the systems they had to go through to receive sanctuary in her nation's prison city felt… off. Wrong. As if these people were not supposed to be here, nor wanted to be… but had to be, for the sake of some abstract goal.

Whether they were being paid to maintain the city, so the hidden adults of her species wouldn't have to do it themselves… or if they were refugees looking to be protected by the governmental might of her nation… she couldn't be sure. Perhaps there was no genuine answer, or there was no one abstract goal that had to be met before they would be allowed in this growing melting pot of cultures and species… each other species always being reminded that the youth of their host country could easily, and violently, end them should they ever make a single misstep.

* * *

Moon-Man sat quietly in the back of the empty restaurant, resting her eyes as she leaned deeply into the cushioned seat of the booth. Leaning on the wall to wholly support her bodyweight, Moon-Man felt a small amount of peace in the dark corner of the building… within the wooden construction that felt so out of place in the concrete city that surrounded them.

The 'Shab Shack', was by far Moon-Man's favorite restaurant in this hellhole of a city, only being slightly below her favorite place, her room whenever it wasn't occupied. Normally a place where crustaceans came before and after work shifts for oil-cooked seafood, Moon-Man had stumbled upon the shack, and the hobbled pirate who had owned it, blindly… and out of curiosity, or because she couldn't find any other Inkling inside of the place, Moon-Man had chosen to frequent the place.

And unlike the mostly bland food that was their usual fair in her entire society, the crustaceans had a habit of finding the spiciest of flavors, extracting them, and dousing whatever they created into a hot mess of burning fish flesh… which was amazing, compared to the gruel nutrition packs Moon-Man sustained herself with. How the giant shrimp had managed to create such burning food was still a mystery to Moon-Man… and judging by the expert way he dodged all inquiries, she doubted she'd ever get an answer from the one known merely as 'Joe'.

The plate hitting the table woke her from the trance she had placed herself, the one she had thought of having quietly approached her table without either her, nor the boy across from her, realizing. Judging by Dad's startled face, who looked as though he hadn't even ordered yet, Moon-Man assumed the owner of this establishment had seen them sitting quietly from his kitchen view, then created the one dish Moon-Man ordered regularly whenever she visited. Looking down upon her, the crippled, eye-patched prawn quietly appraised her with a silent gaze. Glancing towards the dangling eyeball that was the shrimp's only way to see, Moon-Man let out a small groan as she started patting her pockets, looking for her wallet where she could throw the city's currency at the elder.

But she was stopped, a claw stabbing into the drift wood table as the creature leaned downwards, his one good eye squinting, studying the coated girl at his table without even trying to hide his scrutiny… Moon-Man forced to match the gaze as she looked at the older male with disinterest, finding his created dish much more demanding of her attention. Refusing to speak first, Moon-Man waited for the ex-pirate to say something or leave… the tiny mandibles of his mouth moving ever so gently as words began to filter out in the heavily accented mockery that he made of her language.

"Mune-Mahn, ya' caused meh trubble."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Joe." Moon-Man stated, glancing towards the boy who was trying to decipher their host's words. Already used to the prawn's dialect, Moon-Man continued, feeling as though the prawn was begging the following question. "How'd I manage that?"

"Ahm still tryin' ta' fig'er tha' wahn out." The prawn slowly started, leaning harder on the table to reach eye-level with his customers. "Oi be wohnderin' if'n it ain't tha' fact I be servin' ya' loike this."

"What the hell is he saying?" Dad asked in genuine confusion and was promptly ignored by both the pirate and the coated Inkling.

"We can leave, Joe." Moon-Man offered, knowing the prawn wouldn't be so bold as to openly kick out an Inkling in their own city. "I don't have to come back."

Back pedaling quickly, the prawn raised to his full height as though he were stretching his back, placing his claws on what Moon-Man believed to be the creature's hips. Letting out a loud groan of exasperation, the prawn spoke, somehow simultaneously making both noises at once. "Oi ain't sayin' tha', gurl. Ya' know oi loike ya' ta' much ta' tell ya' ta' feck off."

"Then what do you want, Joe?" Moon-Man asked, wondering if she was going to have to bribe the shrimp to allow them to stay, along with paying for their food. In his following answer, Moon-Man expected a joke or a cheerfully twisted response that aligned with the pirate's dark humor… but as the crustacean leaned back in, lowering his voice to that of a whisper, Moon-Man's eyes widened as she deciphered her own language.

"What oi want, Mune-Mahn… is ta' know woi ah black-ops team burst inta' mah home and took me ta ahn interrogation room askin' 'bout you." The crustacean said, staring her down for a long, silent moment… before speaking about something they both knew she could answer without crossing an invisible line created by invisible hands. "And where two of me mates be."

"I don't know anything about them." Moon-Man informed the crustacean, who seemed to be expecting this answer.

"Did he say black-ops?" Dad asked, even more confused… who was ignored once more, this time by the answering prawn.

"They went out tha' day after tha' power malfunction happened." The pirate stated, the implication of his words not being lost on the girl he was talking to. "Neva' came back."

"I was hospitalized that day, Joe." Moon-Man explained, remembering the morning after her exhausting trial of a night filled with blood and death… suppressing the wave of emotions that came with the flash of memories. Choosing not to pause dramatically, Moon-Man looked back to the pirate-chef, pointing out the obvious. "You'd know more about what's been happening here than I do."

"But naught whot caused it." The prawn stated, implying that he wanted to know the details of her bloody night. Staring at the friend of an elder, one who had served her despite the social pressures she carelessly put upon him in her first year within this prison of a city… Moon-Man knew she at least owed this creature a proper response, and he seemed to know this as well.

"Later, Joe." Moon-Man promised, her word being taken without further encouragement for a more dedicated oath. Without anything more than a nod, the prawn began to hobble back to his station a door away, leaving the two Inklings alone within the back corner of his establishment.

Slowly picking up her given knife and fork, Moon-Man began to cut the mix of fish and wild, lesser crustacean up into smaller pieces… trying not to focus any mental capacity on the cannibalistic nature of those who shared her prison. Inhaling the scent of cooked flesh seeped in oil and ground spice, Moon-Man truly felt… returned, to the city now. As she was about to take a bite, however, the voice of her companion broke out the small moment of peace, and interrupted the first taste of real food since her return to this cage.

"So… am I just supposed to pretend that didn't happen?"

Staring at the boy, showing him that she had completely understood what he had said, and was now choosing to ignore him so long as food was on the table, made a long, painfully aware motion as she took her first bite. Staring the one with a stupid name down, refusing to break eye-contact first, Moon-Man continued to eat slowly until the boy's unanswered question would leave him the one option available to him. As she slowly took apart her meal, she watched the boy like a bird of prey, knowing her unending stare would slowly get to the boy's conscious and force him to do the thing she had started.

Waiting for the moment where the boy decided to cut into his food, Moon-Man would eventually speak out, interrupting the boy's start to his plate just as he had done to her. Blinking at her sudden question, the boy would remain silent for the remainder of their early lunch… perhaps processing her simple comment, or because the thick slather of spices had affected his tongue.

"My replacement, huh?"

Moon-Man had found herself dumbstruck, watching the prawn musician play his strange, multichord instrument. Resting on the curb, using her palm to support her perplexed expression, Moon-Man listened to the constructed wood and metal strings make several different tones that each shifted and moved in a strange unison together. Unsure if this was supposed to be an individual orchestra playing an epic sea-poem through unsaid words, or if the single artist was making a dozen different noises just to experiment… Moon-Man felt entranced… unsure what this chaotic, yet rhythmic sound reminded her of.

For minutes, she listened to the continuous story the chords revealed… an absence of any repeating pattern that signaled a singer to pause for a chorus. Choosing to believe this instrument was made specifically as to shun vocalists, Moon-Man continued to study the prawn in worn clothes… the dock-worker finding peace within the passion that was his music… sparking a great envy to the coated Inkling who watched from between the legs of passing, and spectating others who had stumbled towards the artist without expecting to be caught off guard.

Jealously, she watched the artist, knowing that if she dedicated the rest of her life to the study of this single instrument, she would never be able to play the construction without growing six more smaller arms. Enviously, she realized that her creativity could never come to the same kinds of conclusions that this one mind had seen without eyes, morphed without touch, and brought to life, to share with all who could hear. Stunned by her own ignorance, that she had never considered the kinds of music those who shared her city might have known for their entire lives, Moon-Man felt a growing appreciation for those unfamiliar to her… and felt an increased sense of dispassion for the music that had been popularized by her kin… and pushed onto them by the Sisters who only had a fragment of the musical talent she now witness, randomly on the side of a road.

Then, without prompt, song and story unfinished to the confused spectators, the prawn stopped playing his instrument, all other stunned spectators quickly leaving, as though such an abrupt end had been anticipated from the start. Blinking in confusion, Moon-Man looked to the small dissembling mob of witnesses to the music, and to the artist himself… before realizing the prawn had packed his multiarmed instrument away, and had vanished before any gifts or currency could be traded for the show he had provided for them all. Wondering why the show had stopped, Moon-Man stood from her seat on the curb, and looked around her… only finding the one Inkling who had refused to leave after they had finished their lunch.

"Why did he stop playing?" Moon-Man whispered to herself, unable to find the back of the prawn and ask. Looking towards the replacement of a squid that had stood beside her, refusing to sit and watch the musician as she had, Moon-Man could see a look of appreciation and fear on his face… his answer foreshadowed by the starts of a low siren call from far away.

"Squall." The Inkling stated, before taking Moon-Man's hand and dragging her towards the nearest open building. Confused, but realizing the word was something that required a sense of urgency, Moon-Man used the rushed energy of the boy to carry herself, knowing she'd never be able to make as quick of a pace without aide. Unsure why it was that groups of Inklings could now be seen moving towards the interior of storefronts and entrances that were being held open by the odd prawn and jellyfish.

As they reached the interior of the building, finding herself in the first floor of splatter shot workshop or vendor, Moon-Man looked about in confusion… looking to the worried face of her companion whose entire focus was towards the still opened door… a small carapace crab standing in the way and keeping it open, his armored head swiveling to the outside, looking for… something, Moon-Man expertly determined. After appraising the store, finding few others inside the building that did not look nearly as nervous as the one who was still holding her wrist, Moon-Man began to go about prying her replacement from her and return to the outside.

She didn't even get to air her question of why the poorly named fighter was still grasping her before the first of the rains hit the earth, and watched in bewildered amusement as the smaller carapace crab began to hold desperately onto the glass door's edge, the wind itself propelling the light body up. Taking a step backwards, deeper into the shop's interior, Moon-Man felt Dad's hand release her… the unknown word's meaning quite clear now that the storm of death had begun.

Then the concern for the stranger hit her, before she remembered that it was only her species that shared the affliction that water brought to them. As she tried to step forward and help the poor crab dangling by his tiny fingers as the wind pushed him, and the door wider open, the prawn who had been distracted seemed to snap out of his appreciation of the weapons he couldn't use on the store's display rack. Walking to the door that was forced open and getting hit by the winds and water without so much as a slight hesitation, Moon-Man watched as the crustacean anti-climatically grabbed the metal bar of the door's handle close, gripping the small crab up in a pincer without so much as a shrug. Stunned by how casual the prawn acted, despite what any of her kin would call heroic, Moon-Man watched as the crab and his taller associate dried themselves off with towels that had been strategically placed nearby.

"What…?" Moon-Man could only say to the pair, who looked almost startled by their guests' appearance. To their credit, the crustaceans were quick to shake their surprise, and quicker to secure the door to make sure it would not blow open and allow the dangerous substance near to the offspring of the city's true owners. Only after the crabs had made sure that the rain wasn't about to get into their building, did they turn to her, the little crab that didn't even come to her waist hopping up and down as it made its way to the other end of the counter… and speaking in an annoying friendly tone.

"Why hello there, kids! Though we've met under circumstances outside of our control, could I show you my wares? Here at Nomad's Weapon Arsenal, we have all kinds of technology to make your turf-wars that much more exciting!" The crab cheerfully pitched, gesturing to the weapons that lined the wall. "We also specialize in the new Ink-Strike Torpedo!"

"Hasn't that thing been around since the first turf-war?" Dad asked, getting the small crab's attention.

"It sure has! But that doesn't mean we can't bring our own flavor to it! Where other shops focus on modifying the main weapons Inklings use, we prefer to focus on the 'supers', that can be play-making, game-changing, and can turn any loss into a clutch! Just like our 'N'-Striker!"

"What's so special about it?" Dad asked once more, genuinely intrigued by the marketing pitch, or the idea that he could find something to help his team in the coming tournament.

Moon-Man, however, was more focused on the prawn that was turning his attention back to the standard weapons on the wall. Noticing the eye-roll this larger crustacean made when the Ink-Strike was mentioned, Moon-Man followed the male's longing gaze, staring at the weapons that were used in every televised mock-combat that constantly ran through the city.

"I'm glad you asked, sonny-boy! You see it-"

"It's not different from any other." The prawn interrupted the salesman, the conflicting information confusing the Inkling who had almost been sold. Appreciating just how fast the aloof prawn had ruined the atmosphere of the room, Moon-Man felt as though she should follow up with the line of questioning, if for no other reason than to see why the detached crustacean would feel so passionate about the missile system they implemented.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because, I have taken apart six of them, and have determined there is no way to activate them any differently than how they are already deployed. It is a far too simple device to make any meaningful adjustments to it, to get any outcome different from what we are all familiar with." The prawn stated with fact, revealing he was the more technical savvy of the pair. Looking at the nervous look coming from the crab behind the register, silently glaring his question of 'Why are you ruining my sale you butt-lantern?', Moon-Man decided to let the prawn continue airing his frustrated information. "It is just… too simple to do anything with. For an infantry support weapon, there is no way for me to make it any more efficient. It activates its charger, it propels itself forward, and then it explodes when the timer ends. All I can do from the hardware perspective is detonate the damnable thing before it even launches!"

"So… is this guy a liar, then?" Dad asked, the sales-crab sighing loudly, as if this had not been the first time a sale had been ruined by his associate's passion. As the prawn shook his head, purposefully sending mix-messages now, Moon-Man let out her own sigh, and finished her fellow Inkling's question up.

"Then what makes yours different?"

"I know how to bypass the ink-usage meter that allows the propellent to activate." The prawn stated with a gravity not lost on Moon-Man or the one beside her. Stunned by such admittance of outright cheating, the prawn all but telling them that he could make them a special move that could be activated the moment a game started… Moon-Man wondered how these two had not been made famous by all the 'S' tier teams.

"You… you can?" Dad asked, a gleam in his eye akin to a power-hungry monster.

"It's not hard." The prawn admitted, then sighed. "It's just so… obvious, that anyone could look at it, and notice it nearly immediately. We'd lose our vendor license if it were to be used."

"What… I was referring to, was that our Nomad-Strike, or 'N'-Strike as I like to call it, can keep the whirly-dirly around a little longer!" The sales-crab informed the three others in his now silent shop. "A whole two seconds, actually! By delaying the amount of ink that's released, we can keep a zone blocked off for thirty percent longer, and because of the slower rate of dispersion, the ink has a better chance to stick to the ground! If I can compare the standard Strike to a short-lived storm, ours is a rain that never seems to end!"

"That's busted." Dad stated, being completely correct if what the crustacean was speaking was the truth. "That can't be legal either."

"No, we cleared it with the judges and rule makers. -I- wouldn't try to sell you something you'd never be able to use!" The crab stated proudly, making it clear that the prawn's words should be discounted for.

"Oh, hur-dur, two extra seconds of a small tornado!" The prawn lashed back, not taking well to the implied insult. "You taped the nozzle dispersion system two centimeters closer together! What a marvelous feat of engineering, you scumbag."

"Oh, here we go again, throwing your stupid degree in my face!" The sale-crab started for what appeared to be the hundredth time. "You think you're so smart just because you graduated from a small-island university!"

"Smarter than a guy who can't even peddle his trash to children."

Moon-Man could have watched the two fight each other all day, happy to know at least other people were in just as toxic of relationships as she currently was, however, her companion on the other hand, could not. Either because the 'squall', or whatever it was called, was dying down, or because he was genuinely interested in the 'N'-Strike, Dad interrupted the two, speaking out about he'd like to see the missile. Stunned by his curious nature, or because the Inkling hadn't cared that the pair had exploded at one another, the smaller crab hopped down from his seat and led the young boy towards a door that had a metal grate placed in front of it. Supposing this metal barrier was supposed to keep customers out, Moon-Man turned away from the boy who had gone to see their specialty weapons… and looked to the prawn who was once more staring at the wall of shooters, undoubtedly considering what he could do to make them even greater than what they were.

As her own eye was caught by the familiar shape of the weapon she used to carry everywhere, Moon-Man approached the prawn, and hefted the display rotary weapon off its pegs… unsure how it had become so heavy since the last time she had wielded one. Cradling the weapon in her arms, as though it were a child, Moon-Man grunted, examining the cylinder that would normally be filled with the collected essence of her kin, being fed from the accumulation canister that would be on her back. Realizing the weapon would be significantly heavier loaded than empty as it was now, Moon-Man gritted her teeth, feeling every muscle in her back stain as she tried to lift the weapon single handedly.

It was only when the prawn looked to her, did Moon-Man realize just how weak she had become. Remembering her actions but a few weeks ago, firing a weapon just like the one she was holding with just a hand, running through empty sewers and construction sites… participating in real battles of life and death, as opposed to the mockery that was their turf-wars… Moon-Man closed her eyes and lowered the heavy weapon… unsure if she'd ever be able to return to that state of comfort she had held when she had fought for her life. Offering a pincer to the one playing with his display weapon, the engineer was gifted back his merchandise. Thinking he wasn't going to say anything, Moon-Man looked to the lighter weapons on the large wall of shooters, getting surprised with a sudden question.

"What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" Moon-Man returned, intending fully to dodge the question until the rain ceased trapping her within the room.

"You're too old to not be able to handle the Gal…" the prawn slowly said, as if the real explanation to his question was being kept in reserve. Staring the prawn down, who she could see was wearing a small vest with a nametag covering the engineer's heart, Moon-Man decided that this creature was but curious… and didn't deserve to know the trials she had gone through, even with his innocent tone that came with his following question. "So, what happened?"

"A lot." Moon-Man informed the salesman's partner, picking up one of the smaller weapons located close to the floor. Remembering the familiar feel of first coming to this city and being given a shooter like the one she now tested, Moon-Man began to do a pained weapons drill.

Checking the pneumatic chamber for blockages on the top of the weapon, Moon-Man pushed the heavy plastic together when her task was finished. Quickly, she brought the toy-like weapon up to her eye, able to remember the last few instances she had used a shooter that had been made for fire-rate, as opposed to the catapult like accuracy she had grown accustomed to with her old Ninety-Six. Liking the weight of every Inkling's first weapon, Moon-Man began to test how quickly she could pull the shooter free if it were slung underneath her jacket… and liked the idea of being able to spray an entire alley-way down if someone were to come at her.

"A lot, huh?" The prawn slowly repeated, examining her words as he stared the customer down… silently appraising the shorter being that had unwittingly been dragged into his store. Crossing his arms as she continued to test his most basic of weapons, the prawn tagged as 'Bolgen' tilted his head to the side… and asked a question that had much more implications than she would have liked. "I think I heard someone talking about you."

"Was it an Inkling?" Moon-Man asked, barely moving her head as she directed her attention to the one who stared at her.

"No…" The prawn slowly said, shaking his head lightly as he sorted through his thoughts. "Some Jellyfish was explaining the reason these new restrictions have been implemented… and about how some coated kid had done something that had nearly caused a multi-national crisis."

"I wouldn't worry about it." Moon-Man eventually answered, knowing her pause would be read for the silent confirmation it was… and judging by the way the prawn leaned backwards, mandibles twitching ever so slightly as if he were about to speaks, Moon-Man felt certain this Bolgen character now knew who she was.

However, he would not be able to interview her in private, as Dad came bursting into main building, carrying a large missile under his arm as the crab happily followed behind, locking his room behind them as they returned. Glancing at the one who continued to stare her down, Moon-Man slowly moved towards the cashier counter where the missile now rested besides, placing the weapon on the wooden cover as the crab started to ring their purchases up.

Feeling the gaze of the prawn not leave her back, Moon-Man wondered what this exciting feeling she felt was… her pride mixing with her pained history, to reveal to herself the prestige that she had earned with her actions. Wondering if the engineer thought of her as threat, or as a heroic figure… Moon-Man was sure of at least one thing.

She now had reputation, and respect of not her fellow kids… but of the questionable presence of the other races within her city.


	3. Part 3

Three

She had lived in this cage since she had been old enough to live on her own, which had been determined by her father to be the age of eleven. Nearly four years had passed since her arrival, and in that time, she had met dozens of people she had grown to care for.

At first, it had been the mentors who had taken her in when she had been lost and confused just as they had. Kids slightly older, who had been around during the city's goals had been made perfectly clear to all those who would enter the concrete walls had approached her in the chaos that she had been absorbed by. She had grown to care deeply for these older children, calling them by their preferred and assumed titles, being shown what they know, getting told secrets that she shouldn't have been aware of. Getting complements from those who were jealous of her father's heirloom he had passed onto her. She had learned to care for these older kids, who seemed so much stronger, and experienced than her, even to this day, she couldn't consider herself equals among them.

Then, after their disappearance, it was those who were of her own generation, who were now given the spotlight as those too older were transitioned out of the city… off to the unknown that plagued each growing child's mind. Fellow children, who had outgrown those who had taken them in, who would enter random battles against each other for the currency that was the only valuable thing within this city.

In those days, there had only been a few hundred of them, and familiar faces were bound to meet in combat over, and over, and over again. Sharing professional rivalries with everyone, each child would step, alone, into the sorting tower and be sent off to their chosen arena, eventually becoming one of eight in randomized team battles. As each face grew more familiar with one another, friendships would be forced upon them, then grow naturally… one moment's enemy having to learn that they're temporary hatred would one day be consumed for the need of teamwork. With nothing but personality to divide them then, it would not take long to find those one found worthy of spending large, if not all, of one's time with.

By proximity, and with a more cheerful disposition, she had made friends, who she could confide in. Who she could laugh with, about the most… inane thing. She could speak about nothing, of subjects without substance, and in the morning, know that they would be there… ready to do battle against and with her.

Then, the stakes had been raised, with the first televised tournament. Suddenly, as if a single switch had been turned on, the mock-battles had weight added to them. Brackets would be created. Battlers would be sorted, by performance. Grades would be given upon the way they had covered ground or had temporarily eliminated their opponents. A city wide watchlist had been created overnight, and with the added tournaments and ranked matches… those who one could run into were limited, should one try to seek a friendly face.

Perhaps they had been getting too chumming, sailing the friendship of the _S.S. Get-along_ for far too long. Installing the government watchers to keep them competitive, creating a televised program to inform them of information that could only cause conflict, the authorities of the city had successfully managed to ruin the friendly rapport that had naturally come from their environment… and ruined several close friendships that would never be recovered.

Then, with rewards given for performance, groups of those who would openly share information about growing as fighters had shrunk, to the size of the teams one would join. Few now, could claim their social circles could be counted on more than one hand. To have more than three confidants was now a risk, if one's focus was to get the glory that was being televised and being called a winner.

Only those who would forsake a victory's worth, or those who refused to become obsessed with the material, could claim to be a friend now. Only those who could willing ignore what the invisible authority's clear goals were, and refuse to pit themselves against their kin, could be truly trusted. Only those of strict moral fiber and discipline, who knew what the consequences of their inaction would cause, were worthy of respect.

And in her entire time since entering this prison, it would only be a select handful who could ever meet those low expectations… all of who were now younger than her…

Save for one.

* * *

Moon-Man entered the room, checking her corners with a hand on her new weapon. Half expecting to be immediately ambushed by the likes of Catherine, she would get a confused look from her gracious host, who had struggled mightily not to show just how tired he had grown from lugging around a purchased missile to their shared apartment complex.

Groaning with exertion, the boy showing exhaustion from the near hour haul of work, and began walking the weapon twice his size, shifting it at the bottom slowly, the metal pieces at the bottom catching on the carpet every few steps, and forcing the boy to struggle even more as he had to undo his progress to get the weapon free from his apartment's floor. After long, awkward moments of Moon-Man just standing around the entrance to the much bigger apartment… peeking her head in to see just how much different her own single room was to the place built to fit an entire team.

"Could… could I get you to help me, please?" Dad eventually asked with a sigh, leaning the missile on his shoulder as he tried to readjust his weight, including disarming himself by placing his small, pistol like shooter on the table that was barely raised above the floor. Sighing to himself as he took off the jacket that had concealed his weapon, Moon-Man decided that it would be smarter for her to leave… but with the lack of Catherine's presence located within her own apartment… there were few other places in Moon-Man's mind where she could be, which meant that it was probably much safer to stay here, than return to her own refuge.

Placing her own weapon on the small table, Moon-Man muttered to herself how stupid she was being, helping the strange boy. It wasn't as though she had bought the missile, and she had given the boy a warning about how stupid an idea it was to carry the weapon around the city when the manufacturer was ready to deliver it by the following morning. If anything, the boy had earned the right to struggle with his expensive toy, having paid several thousand of their city's credits for a one-time use of a device that would rain down their colored ink… for merely two seconds longer than normal. Not only this, but the boy had dragged it around the city so nonchalantly, he might as well had gotten a microphone and told every one of his competitors he had a strategy prepared focused solely on an Ink-Strike. In all rights, Moon-Man could easily refuse the struggling boy… but in the end, she would help the pathetic child carry the weapon into his room.

After a momentary haul, the missile not being nearly as heavy as it looked, most likely due to the material only having thin pieces of metal binding it together, Moon-Man found herself in her replacement's room. Seeing boxes that signaled that he had recently moved in, messily opened and scattered around the floor, as though the boy only looked through them when he needed something reminded Moon-Man of the many boxes of evidence she had once sorted through… which were all gone now, most likely burned in a ditch somewhere. Noting the few things that were scattered around the room silently, the collection of weapons taking the room's corners made Moon-Man acutely aware just how well-rounded this fighter could potentially be. Gazing at the frameless mattress that sat in the farthest corner of the room, close to the closet door they haphazardly placed the missile within, Moon-Man felt brief confusion at a combination of items hidden behind a pillow.

"Thanks. After an hour of walking like that, I just…" Dad trailed off, noticing the one that had assisted him in the final stretch of his hauling mission had moved to investigate his personal space, and trailed off. Quickly chasing the one who had spotted the peculiar set of accessories, the boy stopped between his closet door and his room proper, armed with a stunned expression as Moon-Man lifted the bottle of skin-lotion and roll of degradable towels.

Looking at the pair of items, trying to determine what sort of ailment the boy had that required the need to keep the moisturizer and the thick paper towels, Moon-Man turned to look at the one whose mouth had pressed together tightly, like he had been caught doing something suspicious. Having to have used a similar ointment to help her skin beneath the filmy substance that coated them all, the noninvasive cream doing wonders to help mend her dried and cut flesh after having nearly all her ink drained by those… things.

Unsure if the boy had an allergy or lung issues, needing to blow his nose in extreme amounts, or at least needing a full roll of the degradable material where he slept, Moon-Man looked in genuine concern for the one who was now apart of her friend's team. "Are you sick?"

"That's a… uh… loaded question." Dad slowly said, not giving her a straight answer, which only perplexed her more. Obviously, if he was trying to hide some condition to stay on her friend's team, something was needing to be done for them to keep cohesion. If any of them were to get sick or were already sick at the cusp of the tournament, then they needed to know in case a backup had to be prepared.

"Then why do you have these? Does Catherine know?"

"Why… why would Catherine know? Or care?" Dad asked again, deftly dodging the question as he began to inch himself away, clearly intending to flee from the room. Not intending to lose in a game of positioning, Moon-Man began to move towards the door as well, making it clear that she wasn't about to let this significant issue slip by their team's captain… or her friend, who was serious about winning their city's annual tournament.

"Because, if you're some sick kid, you can't risk giving it to them." Moon-Man stated, unafraid of some disease, never intending to play a part in the tournament anyways.

"Giving… it? Uh, we're… not that close, Moon-Man."

"I know how these things work." Moon-Man seriously stated, having to attend lectures about general safety and wellness practices for maintaining good health during her physical therapy. Warning the boy, Moon-Man pointed a finger at the reddening creature, who was now hiding his face as though he was embarrassed. "Things spread in proximity like this."

"S-spread? I-I, think you're… misunderstanding something, Moon-Man." Dad stated, slamming his hand into his face, trying to distract the one keeping him in his room.

"What is that, then?" Moon-Man asked, getting an unexpectedly rushed answer as the boy knocked the evidence out of her hands in his very quick response.

"I'm perfectly healthy!"

"Then why do you have…" Moon-Man stated, remembering another part of the health class she had to partake in while admitted at the prison hospital. Blinking to make sure the implied innuendo was what the boy was implying the so called 'evidence' was for… Moon-Man did the one thing she could think of doing… and brought her fist into the boy's face.

"Catherine, did you spend the entire day in Moon-Man's room again? I thought you said you were going to get-" A sudden voice shouted into the apartment complex, not even having the common courtesy to close his front door before yelling. Hearing the entering boy's footsteps cease, Moon-Man slowly stood from the traditional pillow seat… turned to look at the stunned expression currently on the boy's face. Seeing the mixture of fear and happiness come across the boy's face multiple times, her appearance in his apartment both being a long wanted, and dreaded moment, Moon-Man decided to let the boy squirm in his internal state of chaos for a long moment… but then spoke, hearing the thudding footsteps that heralded another familiar face.

"Hello, Tome. I see you've settled in." Moon-Man decided to say, watching the boy as he covered his face, thinking through her appearance in his apartment. Checking the rest of the apartment he could see, Tome looked for any other lifeforms in view, before settling on the fact that Moon-Man had probably broken into his living room. Unsure if she was being appraised like a threat, Moon-Man took a singular step closer to the Inkling… who promptly turned on his heel and fled full sprint out of the apartment without word. Watching the boy choose to run further into their shared building, as opposed to retreating outside, Moon-Man felt… perplexed, to say the least.

Even more so when a familiar, large body came into view. The boy, holding two large zipped up bags over both shoulders, stared in confusion at the one who had immediately fled from his own home… before glancing to the interior of his home and staring at his intruder in surprise.

"H-hey, Boja-" Moon-Man started to say, before realizing that the boy was entering his apartment undaunted, with a look of angered determination. Dropping the bags in his entry way, Bojable the gentle giant all but charged her, and to Moon-Man's surprise, covered the short distance between them with hurried haste. Now knowing the goal of the Inkling for what it was, Moon-Man began to try to retreat, but found herself stumbling on the table that she had been waiting at in silent contemplation. Now, it was her turn to be afraid as the much larger body approached her, the weight and height difference between her and the slightly younger boy seeming to have been exasperated since her brief hospital stay. Speaking quickly, trying to warn the boy not to do anything rash, Moon-Man let out a stream of words. "Wait-wait-wait-wait! Bojable, don't-"

Immediately, Moon-Man was embraced, and lifted inches off the ground. Letting out a long groan in pain as the boy wrapped his arms around her back, her muscles far too sore to be touched and stretched by the happy, yet crying, Inkling… Moon-Man couldn't help but laugh. Tilting and shifting, as if the slight back and forth spinning would confirm that her physical presence wasn't a hallucination, the large Bojable all but began weeping in front of her, as if he was some child who had finally found his lost toy.

Unsure if he knew he was crushing her through his show of affection, Moon-Man continued to laugh… before briefly passing out in the crying Inkling's arms due to air deprivation.

"So, uh…" Tome started speaking, scratching his chin awkwardly as he looked about his bare refrigerator. "Want something to drink? We've got these new honey juices that recently came to the city."

"Sure." Moon-Man eventually answered, watching as the larger Inkling beside the speaking boy started to play with the electric stove top. Wondering if the pair even knew how to host a guest, Moon-Man stretched her legs out under the low table, leaning backwards on the floor as she pushed her sore muscles to their limits with a low groan.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Tome asked as he came to sit across from her, placing a chilled glass bottle in Moon-Man's claimed quadrant of the table. Shaking her head for an answer, not feeling the need to speak, Moon-Man looked to the weird drink that had been placed before her… unsure how such a viscous brew had been given the go-ahead to be distributed inside the city. Watching as the boy in front of her began to tilt the bottle to its side without bringing it towards his mouth, letting the thick liquid near the bottle's nozzle and slowly flow outwards before even trying to take a sip. Only after she opened her own bottle did she realize why Tome acted so cautiously with the drink, the time it took to get the liquid out taking far too long to hold near one's mouth.

"We should probably heat these." Moon-Man stated, trying to find any instructions within the ingredient label on the back… finding nothing.

"That's what I said!" Bojable chimed in from the kitchen.

"Then why would they come refrigerated?" Tome asked back, turning his attention to the one cooking a few paces behind him. "And you did not."

"I said we should drink it like cider!" Bojable declared, getting a scoff from his roommate as the bigger boy continued to bring up evidence for his argument. "Dad thought it was a good idea."

"That guy has terrible tastes, and his opinions are not worth nearly the same as mine." Tome stated with conviction, his conclusion to his compatriot's palate considered concisely.

"But if three people all say the same, then maybe they have a point, Tome." Moon-Man wisely offered… getting a non-sequitur for her trouble.

"Where even is that guy?" Tome asked, looking to the closed door that hosted their unconscious roommate.

"Asleep, maybe?" Moon-Man offered, noticing how Bojable had turned his head ever so slightly to glance at her… as if instinctually knowing that her question was more of a matter of fact, than conjecture.

"Well… whatever, then. It's just rude to have a guest stay unentertained." Tome said to no one in particular, before taking a long suckling sip from his still cold bottle.

Following Tome's silence, nothing would be said for a time. The only thing that changed within the large living area was the smell of Bojable's cooking, and the sound of his plastic utensil hitting against his pan's surface. Enjoying nothing besides each other presences, Moon-Man lounged back on the floor and stared up at the ceiling fan. Thinking throughout the now knocked-out boy's actions since her arrival, and a time before then… Moon-Man wondered if Tome had been correct… and decided to ask for more details.

"What do you mean by, 'terrible tastes'?"

"What?"

"What specifically makes you say that, Tome?"

"Uh…" The named boy started, throwing out a half argument that easily distracted the one asking questions. "He's going to be our charger, for one."

"He is?" Moon-Man asked, getting a grunt from the one cooking in the kitchen.

"Someone has to be." Tome sighed, shaking his head as Moon-Man sat upright. Taking her questioning glare as a request for further information, the boy began to speak at pained length, as if what he repeated had already been discussed at great length. "Meta's shifted when it comes to team comps, with the tournament's rules."

"What are they doing this year?" Moon-Man felt obligated to ask, remembering the past Annuals each getting some small new ruleset change.

"Not basing wins purely on turf covered. They're counting eliminations now, and adding it to the registered team's collective, out of match, score. Now, they're looking for teams with high 'Kills' to 'Deaths' ratio, or whatever they're calling them, and high ground coverage."

"So… it's not a set-elimination system?" Moon-Man asked, confused by the sudden change of the scoring systems. "No best of fives, winner moves on?"

"Nope!" Bojable happily confirmed, scrapping something that smelled far too delicious to be made by an Inkling's hands.

"But… why? That's like… the most basic, easiest way to find the best teams." Moon-Man asked, seeing by Tome's nodding head that he was under a similar mindset.

"They're looking for higher performance from individuals." Bojable offered, cheerfully planting a plate of… yellow mush on sticks in the center of the table. As Moon-Man considered the boy's words, finding it just as likely that if their judges were going to be marking down their team's performance, it wouldn't be much of a jump to think they'd be scoring on the individual basis as well. "Or, that's the rumor going around."

"So, he's your charger for…?" Moon-Man asked, knowing that no one who she had befriended truly liked the weapon built purely to knock out other Inklings. Offering a sentence for either boy to finish for her, Moon-Man trailed off with her inquiry, getting the bottle-boy to speak after her took a long sip. "To…?"

"Counter the other chargers we're going to be fighting against."

"That makes too much sense for you to have come up with, Tome." Moon-Man flatly declared, getting a disappointed sigh from the one she had just verbally blasted.

"He's just there to keep our opponents honest." Bojable informed her, with a smile. Remembering that this Inkling rarely used his weapons to truly knock out others, always preferring to take the more peaceful way when it came to defeat another team, Moon-Man let out a scoff. Extrapolating on his point, Bojable took a single bite from his yellow mush that smelled like scrambled eggs, speaking with a determination she hadn't seen the boy possess before. "Can't let those cocky ones think they're going to win just because we're a shorter-range team."

"I'm guessing people are practicing their chargers in mass, then?" Moon-Man asked, getting another tired nod from the boy who silently drank from his cold honey brew.

"Teams worth. Everyone's practicing with them. It's… ridiculous." Bojable informed her, shaking his head as if the action brought shame to himself, purely because of association. Whispering with a heavy sigh, Moon-Man couldn't help but feel part of her heart rip at the boy's sad sentiment… having held the same thought for years now. "The games aren't even fun anymore."

Deciding not to broach the newfound silence that had once more encased their group… Moon-Man felt back to silence, and eventually, the carpeted floor. Hearing the shuffling of the two boys behind the table that separated them, Moon-Man glanced to see the pair looking at one another… each silently begging the other to break the silence with a question each of them were dying to ask. Choosing to ignore the pair who were trying to practice their telepathy, Moon-Man looked to the ceiling fan once more… and felt the chill of the room's air conditioning that she would have never noticed… if she had not been wounded.

Bringing her father's coat closer to her, as if it were a thick, warm blanket… Moon-Man began to readjust herself and the pillow she had initially sat on… before letting out a question for any to answer.

"Catherine's still in my room, isn't she?"

Having been awoken by the sounds of footsteps in the hallway, Moon-Man had found herself in the dark of her friend's living room. Blinking to gain her night vision, Moon-Man heard the shuffling of footsteps in the outside hall… the number of feet heralding a squad's arrival to her friend's door. Seeing the built-in clock on the stove, and noticing how close to curfew it had become, Moon-Man rose from the floor, and reached for the weapon she had kept close at hand while she slept.

Armed, Moon-Man quietly checked to make sure her weapon was ready to discharge, clicking the trigger and feeling the flow of Ink begin to enter the final chambers within the shooter's inner mechanism. Pressure gauges filled, Moon-Man began to bring her body closer to the apartment's exit… lifting her weapon up and pushing the safety switch down and out, all but breaking the weapon's security system in a single practiced motion.

"Wrong door, dummy. How have you lived here for weeks, and still don't know your right from your left?" Moon-Man heard a muffled voice ask as the door's handle was tried. Vaguely recognizing the voice as one of her downstairs neighbor's, Moon-Man began to approach the door proper… and raising the small eye hole that revealed the hallway. Unsure who it was, having never properly learned, or even introduce herself to, the bottom floor's residents… Moon-Man watched as the four Inklings turned from the door she was behind to the one across the short hall.

Only after watching someone completely unfamiliar turn briefly, did Moon-Man take a step away from the peep-hole… removing the death grip she had on her small weapon. Having expected the female head to be someone she had grown to like… Moon-Man lowered herself towards the entry way's floor, using the wall to support herself on the way down.

Gripping her temples at the thoughts of the one who had last spoken to her, before her temporary removal from the city she had returned to… Moon-Man breathed heavily, unable to forget her past failures inside the small entry way of her friend's apartment. Even after the noise from those who shared her building faded, muffled by their own dwelling, Moon-Man found it hard to stand… and covered her face from the thoughts of complete failure, and outright rejection from one she considered a friend.

Tapping her plastic gun against her head, as if to expel the thoughts and images that flashed in her mind, Moon-Man inhaled deeply… and strapped on the boots she had removed out of proper etiquette when entering another's home.

Fleeing from the apartment, Moon-Man did not turn towards her own cell upstairs… but left the building proper. Feeling the rush of ocean air hit her, Moon-Man stopped moving as she reached the seawall's guard rail. Gripping the metal pole, Moon-Man found herself brought to her knees as she looked to the moonlit sky… remembering the sand where she had casually walked after her battle's end… and where she had decided to tell a young girl the truth about her dead sister… and her role in catching the killer. Tightly wringing her hands around the metal pole, as if she was trying to suffocate the inanimate object, Moon-Man felt a wave, much like the ocean waters far below her, of pain wash over her. A tearing, essence destroying pain. A pain so great, no words she knew could properly describe the pain that robbed her of the air within her lungs, and caused her to act in such a stupid, self-destructive manner. Hitting her head against the metal pole, ramming against it to help rid her of the pain, Moon-Man looked to the beach… and cried, grieving the greatest mistake she had made in telling the truth to the younger girl who had so blindly trusted her… who she had betrayed, by revealing her sister's end.


End file.
